


Small Steps

by anamatics



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To have what they had, Jim Kirk realizes it will take baby steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Steps

i.

At first, he pushes the emotions of the meld out of his mind - there are other things at hand. He must walk across a frozen wasteland with a man he barely knows and yet has always known; and somehow find some way of getting back onto the Enterprise before its wayward captain goes and does something that he will regret until the end of his days. Jim Kirk is seized by the impossibility of the situation and does not think of much else as he struggles through the powdery snow that covers the surface of Delta Vega.

ii.

When the intruders in the Engineering Bay were first noticed, Spock can't help but wonder what took James Kirk so long. The man is a perpetual thorn in his side, and it is only logical that removal from the Enterprise would make James Kirk come back twice as strong like a particularly nasty fungus.

He takes a moment to collect himself, searching deep inside himself for that sense of inner calm that he has cultivated over many years of knowing that he is _different_ from others of his home-world - a place he can no longer return to. That thought is pushed hastily aside. He will grieve like all Vulcans do, in private meditation; it has no place on the bridge of a Starfleet battleship.

He will not allow himself to become compromised by the constant undercurrent of emotion that is running hotly under his thin veneer of calm.

Spock could think of no possible way that Kirk could have found his way back onto the ship. But, illogical as it was, James Kirk was standing before him - as if daring Spock to question his superior abilities to frustrate and annoy.

And then Kirk strings together a series of words and defiant actions that push his control over the edge and he falls into the passion and the rage that Vulcans have survived millennia by suppressing.

It is only later, when his father calls him back to his senses that he realizes that he has just almost killed the most fascinating human he has ever met.

iii.

Jim later regrets what he said to Spock - but it got the job done and that job was vitally necessary to ensuring the survival of Earth. He knows that he should seek him out and apologize. Blows to someone's mother are just low, by any galactic standard, and Jim regrets that he ever had to go there. There was a lot riding on those harsh words, and Jim only wishes that he could find the words to explain everything to Spock.

He's left out bits of the story, and Jim knows that Spock knows it. The Vulcan is too sharp to miss details like that - and he wonders if the only reason that Spock has yet to mention it to him is because Jim has been so evasive about the matter to everyone, including Starfleet High Command.

Ambassador Spock vouched for him, and glossed over the situation, so Jim could keep the more intimate details of what he learned from the Ambassador's assault on his mind to himself. The older Vulcan did not mention the joining of their two minds, and Jim has resolved to keep to himself as best he can.

It's in the quiet moments like these that Jim finds himself thinking about the emotions and memories that were transferred from the elderly Vulcan on Delta Vega. He's had a lot of time to sit and think since they found their way back to Earth. It's too quiet on the Academy grounds now, with close to a quarter of the cadets killed in action. Starfleet Academy has hastily put together a graduation ceremony for the few senior cadets who survived this incident, and Jim can't bring himself to go.

There are people, faces, all around him - and yet the ones he knows best are drastically fewer in number.

Spock has been noticeably absent from the ceremonies and parties honoring of the crew of the Enterprise as well. He's been spending time with his father, and maybe, just maybe, avoiding Uhura.

Jim hopes that's why Spock has been so absent at least. Spock's abilities and skills as both a First Officer and an interim-Captain were vital to the successful defeat of Nero, and it did not due to leave him unrecognized for his achievements. They were both promoted by Captain Pike in the field, and Jim hopes that Starfleet Command chooses to uphold those promotions.

Plus, Jim is still not sure how to approach Spock, to apologize. McCoy has told him multiple times to just man up and find the pointy eared bastard before too much time has passed. Jim wants to, desperately, but a part of him is waiting for what he thinks will be a chance encounter between two people that are one-in-the-same.

They are both wandering around Starfleet Academy; after all, the place isn't that big.

iv.

Spock lowers his hand and watches as the older Ambassador climbs onto the shuttle heading to the new Vulcan Colony. He is unsettled, to say the least, by this encounter. He turns and walks back down the corridor, leaving the hanger bay as quickly as he can arrange it. There is something very disconcerting about standing within ten paces of oneself and then having a conversation about a mutual acquaintance.

The older version of himself knows James Kirk well. Far better than he does himself, and Spock finds himself filled with resentment over that fact. He hides it well, his face carefully neutral as he stalks through the markedly empty halls of Starfleet Academy. He cannot understand why Kirk brings out such an alarming emotional response from him. It is illogical, complicated and not something he ever thought would come to plague his thoughts. Perhaps it is better this way, that he is preoccupied with thoughts of the new captain of the Enterprise. This way he doesn't have as much time to ponder the loss of his home world or his mother.

He retreats to his academy room and pulls off his uniform jacket, forgoing it for a coarsely knit sweater that his mother had snuck into his luggage when he first came to study at Starfleet Academy. It is a coal gray and there are mistakes and little holes throughout the thing - as the hands that made it were by no means skilled with the pointed needles that looped it into shape. He hasn't worn it in years, but it is both warm and comforting - smelling of a home he can no longer return to.

There is a knock on his door and Spock's back immediately straightens, his hands smoothing the sweater carefully. "Enter." He wants to be alone right now, but the potential of this being an important caller is too high for him to simply ignore the knock.

The door opens with a quiet hiss and Spock finds himself face to face with James Kirk. He swallows as carefully as he can, and nods to Kirk, bringing his hands behind his back in a respectful gesture.

Kirk looks slightly confused, still in his cadet's uniform and carrying a box that Spock knows contains a metal for valor. "Nice sweater," he says, stepping inside and keying the pad so that the door closed behind him.

"If you have come here simply to comment on my choice of attire, you can turn around and leave once more." Spock says before he can stop himself. It's like a knee-jerk reaction that he cannot explain, the way he speaks around Kirk.

Kirk raises his hands and smiles easily, two fingers curling around the velvety box in his left hand in a human gesture that Spock has seen enough to discern the meaning of 'no offense meant.' "I have one of those from my grandma last Christmas," he says, "They're great for comfort."

Comfort is a human emotion that Spock has yet to truly grasp. He knows that it means a feeling of protection and warmth, yet he has no idea how one can get that from a piece of clothing. He supposes that it is simply one of the many cultural differences between Earth and Vulcan – for he finds comfort in his data PADDs and reading about strange new lands. Certainly not in sweaters. "I merely wished to no longer be in uniform." He supplies. "May I inquire as to the nature of your visit Mr. Kirk? I have had a long and trying day, and I wish to be alone."

Clearly, Kirk was not paying attention. He's watching Spock with narrowed eyes and realization is dawning easily on his face. "You met him, didn't you?"

"If you are referring to the Ambassador, then yes, I have." Spock doesn't see anything wrong with divulging the information, since both the ambassador and Kirk himself have mentioned their meeting on Delta Vega.

Kirk looks hesitant for a moment, fingers tracing around the corners of his box. Spock waits, knowing that it will come eventually. Humans, especially Kirk, rarely think before they speak and Spock is grateful that he is taking the time to not be ignorant or rude. Well, intentionally.

The minutes of silence were thick with the tension of two souls unable to truly speak their minds to each other. Spock knows from the Ambassador's clear and easy presence around Kirk that it was not supposed to be that way. He saw them speaking quietly before they went into debrief high command. The ease at which they spoke filled Spock with an irrational anger that he could not articulate. That was his job. No one else was supposed to have that sort of a relationship with James Kirk.

"I'm sorry." His voice breaks quietly, like a young boy and not the grown man of the hour Spock knows him to be. "I was out of line – back there."

v.

Spock is silent, standing in his highly-amusing-had-this-not-been-so-serious sweater. He looks like a statue to Jim. A pointy eared and stoic picture of a being, the perfect Vulcan; yet Jim knows this image to be a lie. Spock is almost more human than he is; he's just good at hiding it behind a Vulcan face of calm.

He doesn't _know_ that. Jim pushes the thought out of his mind angrily. He does not even know Spock that well, how can he be attempting to understand his complex nature with anecdotes from a time that no longer exists.

The meld is starting to get to him, Jim realizes, and he's having trouble separating the other reality from this one. He's going to have to tell someone, and with the older Spock on his way to god-knows-where to start a new Vulcan colony with the survivors of the species – it's probably going to have to be this Spock. McCoy would laugh at him and jab him with needles until the sun came up, but Spock, Jim thinks, could actually help him.

He just has to accept the apology first.

Jim fiddles with the metal they gave him, frowning at it slightly. He doesn't deserve it; no one deserves to be rewarded for such a gross loss of life.

"You did was what necessary, no matter how undesirable it was to me." Spock speaks as though he too is choosing his words carefully. Jim doesn't doubt that he is. "I too ask for forgiveness for my actions – I was, as you said, out of line."

Jim shakes his head, knowing that small steps were the way to win this battle. "Don't sweat it." He laughs, a smile blossoming across his face, "I was asking for it."

Spock's veneer of calm vanishes for the briefest of instances, and his lips twitch upwards. "Indeed."

vi.

The echoes grow stronger as his few remaining nights on Earth fade into each other. Jim could have done a lot of things in that time; go home, as Bones and several others urged him to do, or help Scotty out repairs to the Enterprise. She was his ship now, as he had seen in the briefest flashes of memories not related to what the elder Spock was telling him back on Delta Vega. Jim is proud of this accomplishment, but he feels far from the elated feeling that he thinks he should be having, in far exceeding all expectations that others had of him.

Too many people died for this to be an actual accomplishment.

Jim knows that such contexts are simply the ways in which these things happen. It does not make them any more palatable or even stay off the feeling of deep loss that accompanies him as he wanders the streets of San Francisco late at night – trying to forget.

To forget what, exactly, is still up for some debate.

vii.

Spock finds himself unnaturally distracted as he sits in his academy quarters and attempts to meditate. He is looking for an inner calm, one that he could relate to the feeling of peace that oh-so-briefly washed over him when James Kirk had found his way here to apologize for something that was clearly a logical action on his part. Spock wonders what has made the new captain of the Enterprise suddenly humble, and he slips even more into the realm of distracted consciousness.

 _This is not working,_ he thinks, unfolding himself from his meditative posture and standing on slightly stiff legs.

It is close to four o'clock in the morning according to the dim glow of his PADD, resting on the table beside his bed. No human would logically be awake at this hour, as they required far more sleep than a Vulcan did – and a walk out of doors would be a welcome reprieve from the poorly-functioning air-conditioning units of the academy. They had never worked well, but with the recent loss of students, maintenance had simply been tasked with the more pressing issue of helping the families of the fallen cadets in sorting through their possessions.

Spock cuts across the central green that divides academic buildings from residential and heads to where he can see the Golden Gate Bridge, standing broken from Nero's attack. He has always enjoyed the bridge and everything that it has long-symbolized for Terrans, his mother first showed him pictures of it long before he was old enough to comprehend where exactly the Earth was, in comparison to Vulcan.

He let his head drop ever so slightly at the thought of his mother. Carefully schooling his features in what could be considered merely an exercise in self-control as there was no one around, he tried not to think of the pain he felt at her loss.

Grief was a natural process, albeit an illogical one, if the elders of his kind were to be believed. It was not recommended that he bury the grief, but rather accept the fact that it would come, and cope with it in a logical and precise manner. Spock had been meditating on the subject for days and he is still no closer to coming to terms with the fact that every time he thinks of his mother it burns far worse than any pain Spock has ever experienced.

It takes time, logic dictates.

"Spock?" He almost jumps; the silence of his contemplation was so complete that he didn't realize that he had been approached. Regaining his composure in a fraction of the time it would take a human, he turns and peers into the darkness, squinting.

"Who is there?" He asks, not seeing the source of the voice.

A rustle, there, just off to his right. Spock waits tensely as a figure steps into a pool of light, and then he relaxes, only Kirk – out yet again to harass him.

"Awful late at night for a stroll," Kirk comments, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jacket with an air of nonchalance that Spock has come to expect from him in the brief time they've known each other.

Spock raises an eyebrow, "One could say the same to you."

Kirk flashes him a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, and Spock finds himself wondering why he is not being genuine. "Just getting back," he gestures to the cotton shirt he was wearing under his jacket, "I was out on the town."

viii.

Jim knows that it is foolish to lie to Spock, but the words fall easily from his lips before he has a chance to consider to whom, exactly, he is speaking. He doesn't want Spock to know that he's been wandering around all night because he can't sleep – as he wouldn't put it past him to try to do something about Jim's sleeping habits. His brother once told him that Kirks don't sleep until they sleep, and then they sleep for days at a time. This statement, as far as Jim is concerned, is the complete truth. He will crash eventually, but that moment is not now.

Spock is silent, contemplative, and Jim realizes that he might have caught the Vulcan in the middle of a private moment that would do better without interruption. He tries to think of a way to bow out of the conversation that he'd so abruptly began gracefully, but the hour is late, and he has had a few to drink – despite his intention of simply wandering.

"I fail to see the reason behind your deceptiveness," Spock eventually voices, folding his hands behind his obviously Vulcan-made shirt. The high, stiff collar makes it as uncomfortable-looking as the conversation is quickly becoming, and Jim wonders how Spock can wear clothes like that in the first place. He then finds himself wondering why he's thinking about Spock's clothes when he should be thinking of an appropriate response to Spock calling him a liar.

Jim looks down and then up again, fixing his gaze out over the bay and at the bridge, avoiding Spock's even gaze.

 _Well this is awkward._

"It's too quiet here," he says, keeping his tone even. "I've had a lot on my mind ever since we got back. I went on a walk to process it and got sidetracked."

Spock seems to accept this answer as truthful, and Jim is grateful for that. He has a question, the one that he has been pondering for what seems to be an eternity, but is really only the duration of their leave, thus far. Spock is qualified to answer it, but Jim doesn't know what sort of barriers he's violating by even considering broaching the topic with the Vulcan.

It might be prudent to bite his tongue just this once, and save the question-asking for a time when they are perhaps more open with things like feelings and what exactly the nature of their uneasy companionship is, at this present moment.

Then again, prudence has never been Jim's strongest suit. "Spock?" He asks, and the Vulcan turns, looking at him carefully once more.

Jim feels his hands go cold and clammy under the expectant gaze and he tries to meet the gaze as evenly as he can. He knows that he must not waver if he wants his answer.

ix.

James Kirk is standing in a pool light cast by a lone street-lamp now, a question poised on his lips. Spock wonders if he even knows what he intends to ask, or if the question is simply a whim – as so many things are with James Kirk. The next things out of his mouth are bound to be either rude or insensitive, or maybe, if Spock is particularly lucky today, downright stupid. Probability dictates that Kirk will say something crass next, and Spock mentally steels his conscious for what is bound to bring an emotional response out of him.

"Spock, what happens when a Vulcan touches another being's mind?"

Spock is poised to react; to say that Kirk was asking inappropriate questions, to say that he was out of line – but this was… unexpected. This line of inquiry was unprecedented, for as far as he was aware Kirk had no frame of reference for such a question. While it was not outside the realm of possibility for James Kirk to merely be curious, Spock knew for him to have stumbled across such information, even given their brief period of working in tandem, would be very difficult. The mental powers of Vulcans were no secret, but his wasn't the most common of gifts and Spock had never broadcast his own abilities to anyone on board the Enterprise.

The only logical conclusion was that there wasn't one. Kirk was just asking questions for the sake of asking them. By chance, they'd encountered each other at a late hour and now Kirk was choosing to harass him about things that really had no relevancy and to which he had only passing knowledge.

"I fail to see how this is relevant." Spock keeps his tone mild and uninterested in the subject matter. It's best not to feed into the game, he knows. This is all a game to James Kirk.

To his credit, Kirk looks rather put out by Spock's pronouncement, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. It's as though he has something more that he wants to say, but is still searching for the words with which to say it. He opens his mouth, and then closes it once more, glancing down at the ground before raising his gaze to meet Spock's own blank (but rather annoyed) stare.

"When I first met the ambassador," Kirk begins and suddenly things start to move in Spock's brain. Pieces of half-heard conversation, little stems of knowledge and logic push themselves together, and Spock is ninety-eight percent certain he knows what Kirk is going to say just as the words finally emerge from his mouth. "he had to explain a lot of information in a very short period of time, and he did it though what he later called a 'mind meld' – two minds as one, he said."

Spock jerks his head up and down once, to at least acknowledge the information that he is now processing at a rapid rate. He cannot fathom why the ambassador would do something so, so _intimate_ with James Kirk of all people. Surely his vocal capabilities were not hindered by the cold of the ice world of Delta Vega, as he'd been able to talk to both Engineer Scott and Kirk himself and explain complicated equations of inter-space beam-travel. It seemed only natural that he would have used his communication skills to convey other, vital information.

At least, that was the course of action that Spock would have taken, he didn't know about the ambassador.

"Why do you ask?" Spock asks at length, for it seemed to be the next step in the conversation. He has to know the why in order to figure out what exactly Kirk wanted to know.

James Kirk does not meet his eye, chewing on his lip as though he doesn't want to actually come out and say what has been asked of him. Spock wonders if it's one of those strange instances of male pride that humans seem so fixated on. His mother would never explain the concept to him adequately enough for his liking, and Spock had long-since given up attempting to comprehend what exactly he was meant to understand.

"Ever since then, I've been feeling echoes of the memories and events the ambassador told me about." He shrugs, "I was just wondering if that was normal."

Normal, however, is the last word that Spock would use to describe such a situation.

x.

James T. Kirk is no fool. He knows when there are things happening that he simply does not have the ability to see. Like how Spock keeps his facial expressions carefully blank, carefully neutral. They say nothing, and yet through that nothing, they say everything. Or at least, Jim likes to think that they do.

He could boast an awareness of the half-Vulcan known as Spock, but he knew that he'd be lying if he said that he truly understood the man. There was only so much that one brief instant of teamwork after hating each other's guts for the seventy-two hours (or so) that they'd been acquainted could do. Still, Jim thinks that the far more pronounced blankness in Spock's face is unusual.

"I take it that it's not." Jim says quietly. He folds his arms across his chest and his mouth dips downwards into a slight frown.

Spoke is stoic, which is usual, but there is a rigid set to his jaw that Jim doesn't remember being there before. He wonders what that could mean; for they are trapped in the dim glow of a streetlight and the play of shadows across Spock's face only seem to emphasize the blankness of his continence.

"No, it is not normal," Spock says, eyes straight ahead. "One should seek a mind-healer, a Vulcan more skilled in the mental arts, one who has dedicated their life to the study of the mind and how it is affected by the melds."

There is a flash, a brief contortion of Spock's face almost as soon as the words leave his mouth and Jim follows Spock's mental process with a skill he wishes he didn't possess. Vulcan is gone. There is no one that fits that description who is still alive, anywhere in the universe now. He is without help, completely alone in his predicament.

"Such healers rarely left Vulcan," Spock says, his tone is quieter now, but still as devoid of emotion as ever. Jim does not like the monotone, for it makes Spock damn near impossible to read, flashes of insight via unwelcome Vulcan mind-melding aside. "The odds that such an individual is still living today are less than one one-hundredth of a single percentage point."

Spock is retreating into technicalities, and Jim knows that it is a defense against the once again real realization that Vulcan was destroyed. He hates it, because Spock needs the chance to _grieve_ and he isn't giving himself that chance. Jim just wishes he couldn't see that far past Spock's façade of calm to know all of these things. It felt like a violation of trust that had yet to be built.

xi.

There is a sense that he should be doing something now, other than being the bearer of bad news, and yet he cannot find a reason why he should be offering James Kirk any more help than the simple statement of facts. It is not his place to fix the problems that Kirk might encounter due to whatever it was that the Ambassador did.

Kirk pushes some dirt on the sidewalk around with his toe, his expression thoughtful. Spock is looking, openly, for any sort of meaning in his expression. He cannot understand an impulsive creature like James Kirk – his mind is too complex and a simple binary code of logic cannot explain away the problem.

Spock's human nature tells him that Kirk is truly and emotional being – and the past days have been proof of this alone. And yet, he likes being around this twisted knot of emotions and nervous energy that is James Kirk. There is a competitive nature, and an easy companionship that falls between them when they are not set against each other that Spock finds himself wishing to indulge more of.

"Do you-" Kirk falters, looking up and then away from Spock in very quick succession. In the gentle glow of the street light, it appears as though he's trying to say something very difficult. Spock drew a long, drawn-out breath and counted to ten in Vulcan – he could not react to whatever it was that James Kirk was going to ask.

"Could you look, Spock?" The question is as unexpected as their current line of conversation. Kirk digs his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and doesn't look at Spock. "To see if there's something wrong."

Spock swallows. He does not know if he can do what Kirk wants. He does not know if he even wants to. The intimacy that Kirk is asking for – he does not even know what he is asking for and yet here he is asking the question anyway. _Has he any idea…_

"You do not know what you are asking." He says, closing his eyes and breathing deeply and evenly. He cannot react, he cannot allow Kirk to see how this confession and request was so completely alien to Spock's frame of reference that he honestly has no idea how to tell Kirk no.

This is something he simply cannot do.

"How do you mean?" Kirk asks, it is as if he knows what _not_ to ask.

 _Wuhkuh, dahkuh, rehkuh…_ The vein that runs under Spock's brow is now throbbing.

He clenches a fist around the hem of his mother's sweater. "That is a bond that is more intimate than anything that I can find the words in this language to describe. It is something I will not do with you as I certainly do not have those feelings for you, Mr. Kirk."

Perhaps it is better to know, for his own peace of mind.

xii.

Jim Kirk blinks once, twice, and then finally three times as he processes what Spock has said. Vulcans are a strange people, he's long since decided this. Their stoic attitude and strange logic makes it next to impossible to figure out what exactly offends them when they so obviously are offended. He narrows his eyes and stares hard at Spock.

He hates to tap into those feelings and emotions – that unknown knowledge of Spock that he inexplicably has thanks to the actions of that old man on Delta Vega. Spock will not do this for him. His jaw is set in a resolute fashion and his eyes are unblinking.

Jim can't. He cannot let this happen – he has to know.

"I am still your commanding officer; I can request that you do it, Mr. Spock." The guilt that's in the forefront of his mind is something that he cannot force away. He's scared that he's gone too far – that Spock will snap once again.

"Do not ask me to do this, Jim."

Jim frowned, his fists clenched as he realizes that he's as resolute as Spock is. He had to know, there's no choice. If his brain is messed up he can't command, and if he can't command – a position he's so new to as it is, he won't be able to do everything he always dreamed of doing. He made promises to so many people that he would be every bit the man his father was and then some. He has the chance now, he won't let something as bizarre as this bring him down.

His fists are clenched in his pockets. He hopes Spock doesn't notice. "I don't want to." He mutters, almost wishing that he was having this conversation with some other Vulcan – anyone but Spock. And yet he knows that it must be the man who did this to him that is the one to fix it. It makes no sense, but Spock is Spock regardless of what dimension or time he is from. He closes his eyes, pausing before turning them to meet Spock's inquisitive stare. "I just – I just have to know that there's nothing messed up in my head."

He stares at Spock, his mind searching for a way to find emotions in that blank slate of a face. There is nothing, there never will be anything. Even in anger, Spock's face is a picture of serene calm.

"I will do this; because I too want to be sure that the Ambassador did not make a mistake when he touched your mind. The chances that he did make such a mistake are infinitesimal, but the reaction that you are having suggests a transference of some magnitude."

Spock raises his hand and steps towards Jim.

There is a feeling of absolute terror in the pit of Jim's stomach. Not unlike the time that the ambassador touched his mind – but this is far more terrifying. He has to keep calm, or it will not work.

 _How do I know that?_ The thought comes unbidden to his mind.

"Only once." Spock says, as Jim steps forward to stand before him.

xiii.

Spock has no idea what he is doing. He has read of this technique, he knows what he must do in order to find whatever is wrong with James Kirk but there is something about this situation that unsettles him – like it is too soon for him to being doing this – that it is not his place to touch the mind of his captain. That he does not want to see whatever it is that is bothering Kirk so much.

He shakes his head slightly, trying to dislodge that thought, his face forced into a perfectly blank expression. There are times when he wishes to reject his people, in favor of the emotional monsters that his mother's heritage constantly threatens to turn him into. And yet this mask is perfect for situations like this, when too long a look can give anything away and his emotions are probably more apparent than ever.

He feels foolish, standing here in one of the few things he has that his mother has given him other than his human emotions (which are running high at the moment, thank you very much) and reaching out to touch James Kirk's mind. He's afraid that he'll do it wrong and ruin this brilliant mind before it can ever reach the potential that the ambassador alluded to. Still, the chances that he could accidentally misstep in Kirk's mind were enough to make him draw in another calming breath.

"Don't look too hard, I… have a lot of private thoughts," Kirk says, his eyes slightly crossed as Spock's fingers move ever closer to his face.

Spock raises an eyebrow, a warning tone the only betrayal of the emotions that are running, just barely unchecked, beneath the blank mask of his face. "Do not push back against this link, my thoughts are also private."

xiv.

Jim is trying to relax. To breathe in and out like they taught him back when he was still in school and was not as weary of the world as he is now. So many people died then, and he could not stop it. The guilt plagues him with every step he takes through the academy. He hopes that Spock will not look into his mind below what is actually bothering him – but he knows that he can no sooner ask that than ask Spock to stop breathing – if that indeed was what Vulcans did.

He hates the fact that he knows this, because it just makes it worse for him. The anticipation and the fear – because this will not be like what the ambassador did to him. That had been lovely, wonderful, and gentle. He knows that _this_ Spock, _his_ Spock does not possess the skill at this point of time and he hates it. Hates that he knows it and hates that he can't experience something like that again. This whole situation feels like a violation, but he can't help but think that he actively is asking for it.

It is like a high, a drug, the ultimate fix.

He nods his agreement to Spock, because he does not want to know the other man's thoughts. Because he doesn't think he can handle the mental anguish of it being _different_ in any way from what the ambassador had showed him. Their history is not like that Jim and that Spock's history – they hate each other. Passionately – but with grudging respect that has Jim standing here about to let a complete novice at mind-melding poke around in his brain.

Spock's fingers are making him cross-eyed they are so close to his face. His eyes are watering as he tries not to blink – meeting that intense black-eyed stare with best he can muster. Jim bites back a cutting remark and grinds out, "Do it."

Suddenly the fingers are on his face and he's seeing things like what had happened before – only this time it did not feel familiar and gentle. The memories are ripped from his mind and examined one by one with the practiced air of a scientist inspecting a particularly interesting specimen.

 _Typical._ Jim thinks ruefully through the pain.

xv.

At first he doesn't know what he's seeing. It looks like nothing, just a collection of memories that no young man should possess and yet James Kirk does. He clings to them as though they make up the very fiber of his being – which is certainly unhealthy and yet oddly honorable. Spock pokes the knot, listening to the hiss of Kirk's breath as he does so. This is an act of violation and Spock knows that he should not be doing this. Only cowards attack their enemies in such a way.

They aren't enemies any more – they are friends, they're trying to be friends.

Spock thinks that this is hardly professional, but Kirk befriends everyone (except those he won't) in an effort to be the great equalizer in their circle. It is an admirable skill – one that Spock does not himself have. A flaw, as tragic as his mother's humanity, that cuts through him like a knife as he unfolds the alien emotions and lays them bare.

There are two men, so similar to themselves, the same and yet starkly different. They are close, the best of friends, probably more. Spock's brow furrowed, it was not uncommon for men such as themselves to seek companionship in each other, but it was frowned upon by the general public. And yet these men, so much in love and so obviously closely connected to each other and to Kirk and to Spock.

His free hand clenches into a fist as he sees what the ambassador had done to Kirk – _to Jim._ The thought comes unbidden and Spock pushes harder against Kirk's mind, trying to see if there's a way that he can remove the memories and make the other man whole once again, without the press of someone else's emotions and desperate longing against his consciousness.

 _There_ , at the base of the knot is an obviously Vulcan constructed meld, joining the cluster to Kirk's own mind. Spock knows he can break it, as he probably made it in the first place. He probes it with his mind, pressing with interest to see what would happen. Kirk let out a low hiss of breath and Spock knew that he could take this away and make everything _right_ again.

"These emotions," He doesn't know if he's thinking or speaking now, their minds are one. "They are alien to you. I can remove them if that is what you desire."

There is a hesitation in Kirk's very being, as though he's extremely conflicted about what's happened to him. Spock is filled with a sense of wrong in even asking the question. This is Kirk's emotion, this fear of rejection and tentative thought – as though he had not had the time to think if he wanted Spock to take them away, just to see if something was the matter with his brain.

 _Foolish, rash…_ Spock thinks moodily behind his own carefully constructed mental shield – away from the constant and confused press of Kirk's thoughts.

He opens his eyes to see the intense stare of Kirk. The other man wets his lips nervously on his tongue and opens his mouth to say something foolish and irrational, Spock braces himself. "No, leave them."

 _Idiot._ Spock meets that intense stare evenly and regards Kirk with what he hopes his his most professional and doctorlike air. He doesn't know many doctors that aren't somehow like McCoy in their brash and rude natures; his is far more analytical and certainly not as crass. "Are you certain?"

He detangles himself from Kirk's mind as carefully as he can with the question, his mind lingering ever so slightly on that knot of memory. The emotion, the love, that he can feel there is overwhelming.

Will someone ever look at him that way?

James Kirk smiles sheepishly at him, bringing his hand up to rest of Spock's shoulder. "Yes," He says brightly, squeezing it with an oddly affectionate note in his voice that Spock cannot rationalize away without considerable meditation time to figure out just why it warms him to his toes when Kirk smiles like that at him.

Spock opens his mouth to speak, but Kirk shakes his head, "They are a gift from an… old friend," he says. "I'd like to honor that memory for him."

His fingers are hidden under too long sleeves, hanging limply at his sides, but Spock cannot keep them from clenching into fists. "Do what you will." He says, and turns to walk away.

He's taken three steps when he hears Kirk quietly say, "Thank you."

"It is nothing," Spock returns, looking over his shoulder. "It is heartening to see that there is nothing seriously wrong with your brain. I had my doubts."

It's the middle of the night, and Kirk's flabbergasted look at that comment is enough to send Spock on his way, a smile not quite hidden on his lips.

Post –

The New Vulcan Colony was set up as soon as a suitable planet could be found. The process took almost two years, with various Federation planets putting up the refugees in suitable environments within their homeworlds. When the news came that a planet had been found near to the Federation outpost of Deep Space 8, James Kirk called up the highest-ranking Starfleet Admiral he knew and offered the Enterprise to help to ferry the Vulcan refugees to their new-found planet. Given his previous involvement with Vulcan's untimely demise, it was considered to be a noble gesture on all counts, and his request was granted.

 _Two years was a long time,_ James Kirk mused as he paced the upper observation decks of the Enterprise. So much had changed in that time; he'd grown so accustomed to his command gold – to his responsibility and duty to his crew. He took solace here. Musing among the stars – so different from the ones he remembered from home – and yet so similar.

"Forgive my intrusion," A voice cut through his reverie, quiet and polite. "I did not expect there to be anyone here."

Jim's eyes rose and he came face to face with the aged man he had first encountered on the snow-covered world of Delta Vega, what seemed like so long ago. He chose his words carefully, with a sly smile that he knew would not go unmissed by the older man. The cluster of emotions that Spock had found back then had served him well, and Jim knew that the compassion and humility that they demonstrated to him, having felt what the Vulcans had felt through collective consciousness, was vital to his success as a captain. "You are welcome to be here, old friend."

Had the older man been anyone other than Spock, he would have given a half-smile in acknowledgement of their first meeting, but Spock merely raised a knowing eyebrow and nodded as he stepped towards Jim. "I would like to apologize." He said, drawing out his words carefully.

Jim turned to lean on the railing of the observation deck, he knew what was coming – it was as his Spock had told him back then, when he had nearly ordered the Vulcan to fix whatever it was that was wrong with his brain. "It is unnecessary." He felt very Vulcan himself saying that and a small smile played across his lips as he watched the long trails of stars as they moved past them at speeds he could barely imagine, let alone calculate. "I kinda like what you did."

The elderly Vulcan moved to stand next to him. "There are too many…" he trailed off as if searching for the correct word. "Private thoughts in what I did. You do not deserve have the intimate nature of that time and that friendship supplanting your own burgeoning relationship with myself."

Jim turned to his companion and smiled broadly. "I like to think of it as a road map. What to do and what not to do."

"If that is what you wish, Jim. I will not stop you." The smile on the elderly Vulcan's face was so alien it almost looked human. Jim knew that he was being granted a privilege that no one had seen in years, and in his heart, he treasured it.

"You never could, Old Friend."

FIN

 


End file.
